Behind Grey Eyes
by Chris Ovenden
"I don't know that I'm comfortable with the whole zombie thing, you know."
Sara laughs. "What, you scared they're going to eat you?" She's too busy counting out the exact change for her coffee to look at me.
"Very funny." I scratch at the "Jen" written on the side of my cup. He does his Js like I do, a curly tail with no bar on top.
"It's just... I don't know. It doesn't seem right sometimes."
"Four... thirty-five. There you go." Sara puts the coins into the zombie's hand and joins me at the end of the counter. "What doesn't?"
"Using them like we do."
The zombie drops Sara's coins into the till and sets about making her coffee. He looks about twenty-five, quite handsome for a zombie: thick black hair shaved at the sides, light stubble on his chin, striking grey eyes. You'd never guess what he was, if it weren't for the Z scorched neatly into his cheek. I actually kind of liked it on him.
"Why? They don't feel anything. They aren't... whatcha call it... conscious, or whatever."